Happy New Year, my friend!
Since this is the first of my letters to you in the new year, one would think I would write about new year’s resolutions, goals, or something of the kind. But since I stink at those things (I mean, pondering goals for the new year literally gives me a stomach ache), I am not the person to talk to you about such things.
I have a funny story to tell you, though, that has a point. And it’s my version of setting a goal for myself for the year. Maybe it will give you something to ponder as well.
As our three kids grew up in South Florida, we always went to Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party one weekend in December. If you’re unfamiliar with this event, the Magic Kingdom at Disney World would close to the regular ticket holders at 6:00 (or 7:00?), and just those who’d purchased MVMCP tickets were allowed into the park until they closed several hours later. They had free hot chocolate and sugar cookies, an annual button with the year, an opportunity to have your family picture taken, and all the rides. The evening ended with the Christmas parade. We loved these weekends at Mickey’s house.
However, being a family of five wasn’t part of Disney’s hospitality plan. Families of four or fewer had the whole of Disney World to choose a hotel, but we had two: The Contemporary and Dixie Landings (now called Port Orleans Riverside). That was fine. We stayed at Dixie Landings and were totally happy with that. We’d get a cot, and somebody, usually “little” Teddy, would sleep there.
Since we’d stay at the park till upwards of midnight and then have to take the bus back to our room, we’d get to bed late. This resulted in us all sleeping in the next day (Saturday). We didn’t want to spend more money on another park ticket if we weren’t going to be there all day and get our money’s worth, so we frequently ended up at Downtown Disney (now called Disney Springs) to just walk around, let the kids play at the Lego shop, grab a late lunch, and in general, just fight the crowds.
Here’s where the story gets good: By the end of that second day, we’d arrive back at our hotel—very tired. The first time we stayed at Dixie Landings, we slumped into the lobby and saw nice comfy couches beckoning us from the lounge area.
“Want to grab a drink here before we head to our hotel room?”
Answer: “Yes.”
We collapsed onto the couches, a lovely fireplace blazing next to us, and were greeted warmly by a server laying down beverage napkins in front of us. I opted for a glass of wine, my husband a beer, and then came our three kids’ requests for Shirley Temples. The following words uttered by our server have become famous for our family. He said,
“We don’t have Shirley Temples, but we do have Zippity-Doo-Dahs!”
(I can hear his voice plain as day in my mind. He had a sing-song way of talking. I mean, this was Disney. Of course, he did!)
The kids all laughed and thought the idea of a grown man saying, “Zippity-Doo-Dah,” was hilarious. That’s what they ordered. We enjoyed our beverages while resting our weary legs, bid our server, who we later learned was named John, adieu, and went on to our room.
Rinse and repeat.
We did this every year for I-don’t-know-how-many years. I can recall a photo I took of the kids in the hotel gift shop, each with a Disney hat of some sort of their heads and holding a stuffed character doll, with a look of disgust on their faces, like “I can’t believe you are making me do this at this age!” I think Maria was actually in college at that point.
That was our last year of Zippity-Doo-Dahs.
Until . . .
Fast forward a lot of years. Our whole family was together here in Florida for Thanksgiving, and we had decided to take a trip up to Disney. We stayed at, you guessed it, Port Orleans Riverside. At that point, we had three little granddaughters to show the wonders of Disney World.
We got settled into our rooms and walked to the main building to get dinner. Maybe even stop in the lounge first.
As we walked over to the main building, our son, Sean, and I were out in front of the rest of the crew. Either Sean or I said to the other, “What are the chances that John is still working here?”
“Nah, that’s pretty unlikely. I mean, it’s been, what, at least ten years?”
We both started walking faster and took the steps two at a time going into the building. We walked past the giant Christmas tree in the lobby and stood at the edge of the lounge, comfy couches still there, fire ablaze in the fireplace.
Beyond the couches and fireplace, a server stood at the bar with his back to us. Could that be him? He then turned his head, and Sean and I saw his profile. IT WAS HIM! It was John! The Zippity-Doo-Dah guy! As the rest of the family finally caught up to us, we turned and said, “He’s here!” Everyone (save the little girls) knew who we meant.
We took our usual seats on the couches and, saints be praised, here came John, doling out beverage napkins like the good old days. He asked what we’d like, and I seriously was star-struck. I blathered on about how he wouldn’t know who we were, but he was a celebrity to our family. I told him all about how we’d come there every year, and the kids would ask for Shirley Temples, and he’s say . . . and before I could finish, he said his line, “We don’t have Shirley Temples, but we do have Zippity-Doo-Dahs!”
I think I may have cried a little.
He was so kind to us and told us now the “kids” were old enough to have Dirty Shirleys.” (Which they did. The grandkids had the Zippity-Doo-Dahs this time.)
He was gracious enough to allow me to take his picture with our kids and said he was glad to have seen us again. I’m sure he didn’t remember us specifically after all the people he served, but he didn’t let that show.
So finally, my point (sorry it took a while to get here). John never knew that behind his back was a family that thought he was so funny and looked forward to seeing him every year. He didn’t know that we imitated him endearingly for years. He didn’t know how we regarded him as a celebrity and were so happy to see him again.
It made me think, is anyone watching me like that?
And I don’t mean to sound pompous like I’m a celebrity. I just mean we all have influence over people. Sometimes we’re aware of it, and sometimes we might not be.
I don’t know that I’ll ever have someone come up to me and say, “You don’t know it, but what you did meant a lot to me.” But I want to live this new year like someone is watching and looking for an example. I hope I can be someone’s Zippity-Doo-Dah.
How about you? Any big hopes & dreams for 2023?
I hope your year is filled with as much Zippity-Doo-Dah as you can muster!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“There are people in your life whom you unknowingly inspire
simply by being you.”
D.A. Abrams
Thank you, John, for simply being you.